


Pocha

by Anonymous



Series: po-pocha [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Furry, M/M, Macro/Micro, Sanrio collab, Smut, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Voltage Verse, voltageverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 00:05:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12469020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Viktor picks up a stray, and it turns out to be the best decision of his life.





	Pocha

**Author's Note:**

> The people who are responsible for this know exactly who they are.
> 
> Warning for smut involving small things and furry things

Viktor was never certain what his little ball of fluff was, but he was pretty sure he must have been magical. He had found him on dreary, sodden evening along a back-alley shortcut back from the rink. A cardboard box melting in the rain, with the tiniest tinny squeaks emanating through the cacophony of the bust evening traffic. There in the light of the street shone the tiniest of faces, human in shape but hidden by a little dog-eared hat and scrunching into his hoodie, his large brown eyes pleading through the scruff of his black bangs, inexplicably telepathic hat echoing his entreaty. When Viktor took him into his arms the tiny ball of dirty fluff seemed far too light, barely his elbow to wrist in length but weighing only a fraction of what any other animal should at his size. It had scared Viktor much more than he would be willing to admit to the tiny number of friends and rink-mates that knew of this little thing’s existence; scared him more than pulling him by the armpits out of the box and finding paws and fur – the body of a dog with the face of a boy. A scared, starved boy that needed help.

And so this… friend? pet? had found a home with Viktor and a cot in his bedroom, and once Makkachin acclimatized to the new addition all had seemed well. Viktor soon discovered that although this furry newcomer seemed animalistic he understood what Viktor was saying perfectly well, and after realizing what the constant squinting meant he had come to navigate the apartment with his new child’s size glasses. His fur was a creamy white under the grime, and his hat seemed fused to his scalp as well as reflecting the emotions of its owner, or potentially its host, but Viktor tried not to think about parasites. Regrettably one of the largest obstacles between himself and understanding what or who or how his guest was manifested itself in the dog-boy’s seeming inability to use any sort of recognizable language, instead only repeating “pocha” in a variety of accents and intensities (shaking his head insistently “no” if asked if that was his name). The more his tiny friend – and how easy it was to call him that – the more he toiled to be understood the more Viktor felt his heart warm in empathy, wishing there was more he could do to help. 

.......

The days bled to weeks, and Viktor learned. Learned the simple signs possible with paws and stubby arms, built steps up to the toilet from old equipment catalogues. His tiny friend had seemed set on adopting Yuri’s name after the kid came around with Potya a few days after Viktor barreled into the rink shouting about dog-people, seemingly convinced that Viktor’s stray would befriend Yuri’s rather terrifyingly prickly birman cat and that would solve all their woes. And to the surprise of most, the dog-Yuri did seem to warm to the horribly aggressive and territorial animal, and she did to him. Human-Yuri was very against sharing a name with an “abomination” before suddenly relenting, giving his blessing to the christening but giving no reason, and finally giving meaning to the embroidered “Y” on dog-Yuri’s hoodie. Viktor couldn’t help but wonder if he had always been called that and they were lucky or if he had just liked it.

And so the “pocha dog boy in my apartment” became “my Yuri” to Viktor, and he was consistently startled by how well his, Viktor’s and Makkachin’s lives melded, like they had always been together. They became familiar enough that Yuri could communicate his will through simple signs and expressions, and they would spend evenings together cooking (trying not to singe fur), learning board games (that didn’t require opposable thumbs) or just lying with Makkachin in a dog-dogperson-person pileup watching nature documentaries until they all fell asleep together. The cold and empty apartment became a home he wanted to spend time in. 

And so Viktor tried very hard to show how much it hurt when his Yuri started to become nervous around him, shying away from touch and leaving the room if they were ever alone together, padding away on his stubby legs as fast as he could as though he were a physical threat. He tried, but he could never convince himself.

He was distracted from his disappointment by a new and potentially world-shattering personal life development – his right index finger had begun to glow. It was just a little bit of a reaction at first but it was crucial, and despite that Viktor simply could not reason out who it was he was reacting to. There were no new recruits at the rink, his regular barista at his morning coffee shop was still there. Nobody new in his life that he could reliably pin as his destined soulmate. He wouldn’t like to call himself a _hopeless_ romantic, more a hopeful one, buzzing with anticipation, and so his seemingly fruitless search was simultaneously keeping him going and wearing him down. How long could he keep missing his chance before their paths diverged again, this time forever? The radiance was only increasing in strength but he woke up every morning soaked in sweat, shaking with fear that his light would have gone out and staring at his pointer to make sure he still had time.

It was late on a Tuesday when Viktor came home late from the ice rink, determined to lose his heartbreak in new routines. The apartment was dark and silent, the clink of his keys the only noise echoing through the halls when he returned. Makkachin sleeps soundly in her basket off the kitchen as he passes, his Yuri fast asleep on the sofa and… glowing?

Viktor stopped in his tracks as he took in the sight of the tiny creature, face pressed to the cushions and most certainly emitting a faint glow above the dim of the room, curtains drawn against the streetlights outside. The brightness seemed to emanate from his rear, as it should in a regular case of soul linkage, but never had he heard of bonding to semi-fantastical creatures – was such a thing even possible? He crept closer, eyes glued to the preternatural radiance in the dark of his living room, until he was face-to-butt with the brightness peeking out from under a tail, Yuri’s fluffy rear most definitely positively identified as the source, and sits to consider his next move, utterly perplexed. Viktor knelt and carefully, so carefully, laid a hand on the small of Yuri’s back to sweep down and lift his tail, enraptured at the way the room lit up as he approached and became unmistakable as they came eye-to-eye. At this range Viktor’s beacon revealed itself, the tiny ring of the little beast’s anus glowing white in the black, lighting the edges of his fur around him, and Viktor couldn’t look away. It was drawing him in like the beckon of a lighthouse and he was a desperate sailor at sea in a storm, trying so hard not to ruin himself on the cliffs. 

Viktor’s breathed stuck in his throat as he ruffled the soft fur underneath his fingers, the tingle spreading up his arm to his elbow as the hair raised and smoothed under his touch, a shiver running through the tiny body as he did so. He froze, immediately aware of his situation, with a hand still on Yuri’s spine. The moment dragged until, just when he thought it was safe to breathe again, a second and far stronger tremor wracked the muscles under him and Yuri wriggled awake with a mewl that Viktor had never heard before – unmistakably appreciative – and that travelled directly to his groin despite his inner scream of shame. 

He retracted his limb in a flash, the sudden departure sending a zap of static arcing between them so Yuri was fully awake immediately, all paws extended in a spread eagle on the couch and determinedly not looking behind him at his assailant. Viktor remained motionless, hoping against hope that his trespass would go unheeded, that Yuri would go back to sleep and they could remain… what? Friends? Master-and-pet? Forever unfulfilled and perpetually glowing soulmates willfully ignoring the streetlight in the room? His chest hurt both from the emotional strain and the force with which he was crushing his hand against it, its partner curled painfully around his wrist but not conscious enough of his situation to try and stifle the light. Was this why Yuri had started ignoring him – was he embarrassed? Ashamed? Was it because of Viktor, or the difference in what they were? Viktor could feel his mind whirl away from him, pulling his arm harder against himself to try and focus on the feeling – an anchor in the maelstrom.

He was set adrift again when Yuri flipped himself over in one quick movement and looked directly at him, eyes shining in the reflected glow of Viktor’s finger that had barely dimmed at all with the greater distance. Viktor desperately tried to get a read on his expression in the twilight, gaze flickering between the steely stare of Yuri’s face and the equally unreadable one on his hat. Yuri’s eyes eventually unstuck from Viktor’s and trail down to the offending finger, the one that most definitely was trying to set them up as destined forever soulmates, bonded for all time. Viktor tried very hard to keep from a faint, but then Yuri surprised him completely by not toddling away as fast as his stubby legs would carry him but instead shuffling to the edge of the cushion and taking Viktor’s incriminating hand and pulling it towards himself. He let himself be positioned until his palm faced Yuri and watched in awed silence as the little dog-boy who had been too scared to be near him for the last few weeks snuggled into his hand, hugging Viktor’s fingers against his face with trembling paws as another shiver passed through him before he turned as pressed a slow, light kiss against the bright digit, right in the center of his fingerprint.

The realization came slowly and then far too quickly that the shivers weren’t fear but excitement, the aversion was shyness and lastly that Yuri had already been aware of their situation but had decided not to act until prompted. There is a gentle push at his hand, interrupting his processing, and the final revelation is almost too much. Yuri is gently, almost imperceptibly rubbing himself against the crease of Viktor’s cupped hand. There is no way to deny the intention as he feels the sticky-slick protrusion of Yuri’s cock making a tickling slide against the sensitive skin of his palm in regular strokes, the fur of Yuri’s stomach soft against his hand, face silk against his fingertips. The night fills with whimpers, sighs, and a trickle of breathy “po, po-cha” that Viktor watches tumble from 

The sight of Yuri’s distinctly human face in his human clothing and human glasses, eyes closed in pleasure as his paws gripped Viktor’s palm and his canine dick fucked his hand, lit by that same hand and the diffused light filtering through short furry legs was the most confounding sight of Viktor’s life. He can’t deny his biology, which was firmly telling him to give up and accept this sweet, kind and cute-faced boy as his soulmate and ignore the smaller details like animalian anatomy, and was channeling this message south as he contemplated. 

The paws holding his hand suddenly clamp tight, pulling his hand closer in as the thrusts become harder and more erratic, then stop as Yuri hugged him tighter and a warm trickle oozed down the middle of his palm. Viktor didn’t need to see to know what just happened, so he waited until Yuri looked him in the eye again, shy and blushing, before he brought it to his mouth and licked the come off his skin in one long stripe as Yuri flustered and blustered and fused in front of him. It tasted sweet, but then again Yuri was magic.

He leant in to close the distance between them, hands holding Yuri’s small body and fingers meeting at his back. Their first kiss was gentle and chaste but soon graduated in force before Victor licked the spend across Yuri’s mouth, the difference in their size too great to do much more. He broke the contact and tipped Yuri back until he lay on his back, moving forward with him so he could watch his face as the shadows dipped and danced over it. 

From that perspective he could see the flashlight of Yuri’s butt shining bright enough to light up Viktor’s sweater as he crowded in closer. Yuri squeaked out a confused “pocha?” and Viktor near enough had to stuff his heart back in through his ribcage.

“Don’t worry, Yuri, I’ll not hurt you. You’re safe, just relax,” he said in lieu of cardiac surgery, thumbs brushing calming circles in the giving blanket of fur down Yuri’s sides as he felt tense limbs go limber under his care with a quiet “…cha.”

Viktor let loose a ragged sigh as he slid his right hand round to rest on a fluffy belly, feeling the give of podge and giving it a like squeeze to revel in the scandalized squeal it produced. He continued his exploration, pushing the hair against itself as his hand crept into Yuri’s hoodie, darkness deepening as his fingers moved under the fabric. Just under the hem his third finger brushed up against a tiny nub and he rubbed at it experimentally, his first finger catching on its pair as Yuri wriggled his hips and let out a low whine. Viktor watched in fascination at the reaction, pushing his hand further up to find another two, four, six, a low glow appearing at the neck of his hoodie, then rubbing up and down them, feeling the series thoroughly as Yuri’s whines become pants, his cock slipping free of his sheath again, bumping against the heel of Viktor’s hand. He was still struggling with the reality of the situation – that this tiny being was his soulmate and that he was apparently not averse to the idea – but the idea was growing on him as the lovely face before him screwed up in pleasure. His slacks were starting to feel uncomfortably tight but that would have to wait until Yuri was satisfied and they had secured their connection.

There was a final tour of his plush chest, punctuated by some light pinching that elicited delicious squeaks, before Viktor regretfully removed his hand and scooped Yuri up into his arms with a gentle shush and a lingering press of lips, hurried awkwardly to his bedroom and made sure a closed, locked door was between them and his sleeping poodle. Yuri’s tail beat furiously at his wrist, so much that Viktor worried he would shake himself loose.

He pulled open his bedside drawer with his right hand as he held Yuri with his left, using his soulplug marker as a flashlight to root around and pick out the bottle of lube he kept there. He lowered Yuri to the bed, climbing to kneel at the foot of the bed as Yuri shuffled to comfort in the cotton sheets. He hovered over the small body for a second, screwing his courage to the sticking place before planting another kiss on panting lips. This time Yuri took charge and Viktor felt the edge of a row of tiny carnivorous teeth along his bottom lip before he opened his jaw a fraction to admit a miniscule tongue that lapped hungrily into his mouth.

He reciprocated the kiss as far as he could, using the time to uncap the bottle and smear a generous dollop on the fingers of his right hand. The lubricant had been bought when he had been the most hopeful, at the first sign of a soul connection and was a proven conductor for the best results, and Viktor silently thanked his previous self for provisioning. 

He braced his left on Yuri’s stomach as he leant back to make eye contact, wanting and seeing love and consent and anticipation on Yuri’s little face, his glasses squint across his nose. Pushing Yuri’s tail fully out of the way and spreading his stumpy legs with the back of his hands, he zeroed in on the neon bullseye before him, his left hand wandering back up to the fur of Yuri’s belly and idly flicking one of his many nipples with his thumb. 

Viktor paused for a moment in wonder before he brought plug to outlet, the connection manifesting in lux as he brushed his fingertip across the counters of Yuri’s pucker, this was really happening. This was his mate. Every time he touched it was electrified, the power thrumming in him and startling shocked gasps from his partner. The first press in was slow as Viktor tested the size of himself and prayed the girth of a finger would not be too much, but Yuri seemed to be oblivious to any discomfort, too busy riding the high of the current. Viktor pushed further in until he flipped a switch in Yuri, quick breaths changing to shouts of “Po! Pocha! Pochaa!!” as the pleasure surged through him. He hastened to unfasten his slacks and pull himself free, shuddering at the cold before he took himself in hand for a few quick strokes, easing his tension as he moved his index finger in curling presses in the warmth of that hollow. Yuri seemed close, but without a steadying brace Viktor’s pumping in and out was pushing the light body up the bed and so he had no choice but to reluctantly release himself and reapply himself as he inserted another finger alongside his first, the stretch pulling at him before Yuri eased up and the muscle gave, the brightness of their joining wax and wane as he moved like Yuri’s butt was an exquisitely unique dimmer switch. The pressure built between them, Viktor’s erection straining and painfully unattended while he thumbed over Yuri’s as it stood proud of its protection, the difference in textures disquieting. Yuri gave a final shake and came with a screamed, “pochayuu!” over himself and Viktor, and painted a thick stripe over his rumpled hoodie as the room flashed white. The pulse shot through Viktor in exchange, left him trembling and weak, only vaguely aware that his own orgasm had arrived in unison even as he went untouched. 

They remained in that position for several minutes, focused on each other and how the final beam of light had stuck to their skin in a literal afterglow, pants synchronized and wordless. 

Viktor was the first to speak up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, shocked at how loud his voice seemed to boom in the quiet.

“Cha,” Yuri replied, eyes softening and a small sated smile breaking out across his face that Viktor felt mirror on his own. His heart was full as he left him with an unbearably tender eskimo kiss and wobbled over to his en-suite for the towels to get themselves and the top sheet cleaned as much as he could care to in his jello state.

When he was done they snuggled up warm and tight under the covers, Viktor’s brain finally catching up to him as he faded, full of probably important questions about what they’d done and what their relationship would be now that line had been so thoroughly crossed, but found that they all paled in comparison with how he was being lulled to sleep by the soft “cha, cha, cha” of Yuri’s snoring and the cuddly fluff of his naked body.

The days blurred after that in a thrill of re-connection, soldering their lives together until they were inseparable. Now that they had completed the circuit the bioluminescence eased unless they made contact, which Viktor soon found Yuri had an insatiable desire for, plus more acrobatic play and some that Viktor was certain would leave lasting damage and he had to be coaxed into with a lot of sweet signs and teasing kisses. There was a fortnight of some the most surreal and happy days that he could ever remember, enough that he could barely believe he had gone without. Yakov and the others at the rink couldn’t figure out what exactly had gotten into him – or what he’d gotten into – but it came with a curse of blissful distraction and a blessing of sublime inspiration so it was never investigated too deeply past playful ribbing and grunted remonstrations.

...........

Two weeks and a day after that fateful first night is when things turned. Yuri had started to slow down, like clockwork left unwound. He was eating far more than he usually did, which let Viktor indulge in watching him indulge, then less and less until Viktor was worried he would starve. On the eighth day Viktor was at his wit’s end, having tried everything he could think of and Yuri was similarly frustrated and exhausted, barely moving from where he would sit with Makkachin on the sofa swaddled in blankets, Viktor perched beside him, running a hand across the felt of his cap and pulling the floppy false ears through the loop of his hand as he scrolled through endless web searches for “man face dog body ill”, “magical veterinarian”, “cross-reality soulmate wiring”, and finding nothing as unshed tears burned the backs of his eyes.

There was a sharp and very loud keen from the body behind him, and he span round on the seat to see Yuri obviously straining and huffing, his face contorted in pain. Viktor threw his tablet aside, hustling a very awake and very worried Makkachin out of the room where she whined at the separation before he returned to give his full attention to the suffering form cringing and wringing the blankets in his throes. 

Viktor fell, full-force, into a panic.

He flailed around in blind terror; feeling for a temperature and finding none; tracing down limbs for breaks and finding none; feeling across his stomach and definitely finding things. The pieces he had discarded as impossible a week before suddenly forced themselves into place and he reeled. 

He went back to the sofa, laid Yuri out on the blanket and made as close to soothing noises as he could, and waited to be proven right.

............

Two weeks later and Viktor was fussing over their three, perfect and perfectly golden shining eggs about the size of quail eggs, knowing the time was right and the wait was almost up. Yuri had recovered well from the gestational period, had been walking and eating better after a couple of hours after he had laid. Now he was dozing on Viktor’s lap as he rearranged the premium bedding and orientation of the eggs, angling the incubation lamp to refocus a fraction closer to the center of the clutch, ever careful to not overbalance Yuri as he reached over to the table they had set up for the eggs.

He leant back, temporarily satisfied at the organization when he heard the faintest of cracks. He bolted upright, scooping an arm under Yuri as he shuffles forwards and taking the discomforted grunts on the chin. Yuri crawled back to the waking world until the second crack was heard, then they both sat right up to the edge of the sofa, too intent on their brood to say anything or even blink.

Another little ‘snick’ and a crack split the side of the furthest egg, followed by a claw that poked from white fur matted with yolk as arms wriggled through the shattered surface. Within minutes they were gathering the first of their children up, another little dog person but infinitesimal, with white fur, white hat, black hair on her head and the bluest eyes, shivering as she was quickly licked clean by Yuri sat in Viktor’s palm. As they were still fussing over their new eldest daughter there was a “crick, crack” and Viktor was reallocated to watching over the birth of a blue eyed, silver-furred son in a black hat and another tiny son with dark hair and eyes, this one rather confusingly hairless and human in form despite being no more than an inch in height. 

Soon enough everyone was cleaned, wrapped in blankets and snug in a basket that Viktor had pre-prepared, the happy parents aglow with contentment as they watched the children sleep. Yuri was hugged tight to Viktor’s chest and nuzzled the bottom of his chin with a wistful, “pocha”.

It hadn’t happened at all how he had imagined, but Viktor knew that while this may take a lot of explaining to the world he would do whatever he could to protect this life and these loves.

**Author's Note:**

> We will all burn together when we burn.


End file.
